


In The Service of the Returning King

by coolbreezemage



Series: King's Knight [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: All Recruits, Angst, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbreezemage/pseuds/coolbreezemage
Summary: Five years later, amidst war and ruin, Ashe made his way to the crumbling cathedral that had once been his home. And out of all those assembled there, he felt himself the only one who saw in that hunched figure not a would-be king or a vicious beast, but a man.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert
Series: King's Knight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619911
Comments: 21
Kudos: 117





	1. Garreg Mach

**Author's Note:**

> This fic references moments in my Academy-era Dimiashe fic Under My Protection, but it's not necessary to read that one to understand this one. 
> 
> This is based on my all-recruits Blue Lions run, so there won't be any student deaths.

Ashe’s foot slipped on a loose clod of earth, sending a shower of snow tumbling down the mountainside. He shivered and made certain his next step was secure before continuing on up the rugged slopes towards the achingly familiar spires of Garreg Mach Monastery. How many days had it been since he’d left Rowe territory? Five, Ashe thought, watching the sunlight creep over the distant horizon. He might have let himself lose track of the days if the date had not been the very reason he had left his brother and sister in their too-quiet home and departed on this journey. 

The Millennium Festival, and a promise to his prince. His king, now, in all but name. He didn't believe that Dimitri was dead, not for a moment. For one thing, it was all too convenient to lose the regent and the heir in such quick succession and so allow Lady Cornelia and her limited forces to take power against the many, many remaining Blaiddyd loyalists. 

For another thing, the story simply didn't make sense. Dimitri was capable of terrible violence, Ashe knew that, had seen that, but he also knew that Dimitri held family and justice above all things; he would not have murdered his uncle, even in his worst darkness. And then an execution with no body to display? Cornelia was brutal. Had she a dead prince to show off, she would have done so without hesitation.

But chief of all the reasons that Ashe knew Dimitri was alive was this: Dedue wouldn't allow it. 

The few friends he'd confided in told him it was fanciful, nothing more than one of those noble tales he so loved still, but Ashe believed. He had to. 

He'd seen signs of bandit camps as he climbed, all abandoned, some with rusted, bloody weapons lying abandoned in the scattered snow. But no Imperial banners, nothing to indicate that Emperor Edelgard had claimed this place as her own. 

Would the others come? Or would he find this journey as foolhardy as his friends back home had said, with nothing at the end of it but an empty, ruined fortress and a lifetime under Cornelia’s rule? He shivered. Even if Dimitri had survived his execution, there was no guarantee that he had not fallen in the long years since, or that he would remember the reunion he had suggested...

And then he heard a cry of fury and the crash of a weapon, saw the flash of a spell against the darkness of dawn illuminating familiar green hair and stern eyes. Heard a harsher shout of beastial triumph as a large figure charged forward and thrust a lance through the heart of a bandit. 

There was no world in which Ashe would not recognize that face, no matter how worn and twisted with rage it was, no matter how that single bright eye flashed with rage.

The Professor hadn't aged a day. Dimitri had not fared so well. 

Another thief crept around the ruined buildings behind the pair. Heart pounding, Ashe readied his bow and fired. The thief fell. Another charged forward to take his place. Ashe had only just closed his fingers on another arrow when a gout of flame erupted over his head, engulfing its target in burning brightness. 

“Goddess!” Mercedes exclaimed. “Ashe! You came as well!”

She wasn’t the only one. Pegasus wings beat heavy above them; Luin glinted in the pale dawn light. “Galatea returns to serve the crown!” Ingrid declared, voice cutting through the sky like heroes of old. 

On the other side of a crumbling wall, Dimitri struck down the thieves' bragging leader with a curse and a snarl of rage that the Dimitri Ashe had known would have cringed to hear come from his own mouth. 

It was done.

Ashe sighed in relief and returned his bow to his back. He stepped forward, throat dry, unsure what to say to this first sight of his prince after five long years.

“Who’s there?!” Dimitri demanded, whirling around in a flash of blue cloak. 

Mercedes curtsied, smiling radiantly. Ashe went to a knee on the rubble-strewn stones. “Your Highness.”

Dimitri’s visible eye narrowed. He huffed and turned away. “Haunt me no more,” he growled. 

Ashe’s heart lurched painfully. He stammered for words, for some oath he could make to prove to Dimitri that he was truly there, that he would do whatever he must to help him reclaim his rightful throne, but Dimitri was already striding away, heedless of the small limp in his step. 

Hooves on the uneven ground beside him. Ingrid dismounted, approached him, set a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s happened to him,” she said, “but it can’t have been good.”

“Whatever it is,” Ashe said, “he’s still our prince.”

“And our friend.” And that was the most important part, wasn’t it? All of them had learned at some time or another that Dimitri was more than just a future ruler, that he yearned to be known and deserved to be known as a friend.

Especially now, with his throne so far away. 

They rejoined the Professor, listened to his improbable tale of his survival after having been thought dead in the Battle of Garreg Mach at the onset of the war. Updated him on what they knew of the Empire’s movements, of the state of the Kingdom, now under Cornelia’s wicked control. 

Others arrived over the course of the morning, until by full light the Blue Lions stood assembled again with their Professor, as if they were students once more. Mercedes. Ingrid. Sylvain. Felix. Annette. All of them, together again after so long.

Ashe only wished Dedue was there to see it. 

***

The Professor gathered them all in the Cardinals’ Room to plan the Kingdom army’s next moves. Dimitri didn’t attend. Ashe hadn’t expected him to. He could only imagine the presence of so many would be overwhelming after so long alone, and he didn’t want to push him before he was ready. But still he wished that Dimitri could see how many still believed in him, supported him, dedicated their skills and their lives to his cause. 

The first order of business was restoring the monastery. Byleth recruited the efforts of the craftsmen still remaining in the town, who were willing to help out, for a price. Most of the cathedral’s treasures had been stolen in the years since war broke out, but Seteth and Flayn (and how good it was to see them again, alive and well!) had managed to salvage a hoard of beautiful things, and parted with a select few for the sake of bringing their home back to its former glory.

Ashe joined the teams restoring the grounds. His first few days back at Garreg Mach were spent scooping debris from the fishing pond with nets on long poles, scrubbing the stones clean, tearing forests of weeds from flowerbeds and lawns. 

The greenhouse was miraculously mostly undamaged, with only two smaller panels needing to be replaced. While some of the plants had shriveled and died without the proper care - though Flayn had certainly tried to salvage them - others had grown into an untamed storm of color, vines snaking up the walls and flowers spreading their brazen faces to the sun. 

Ashe had thought about this place so often in the past years, but to be here for real still felt so strange and wonderful and yet so, so familiar. Hanneman and Manuela bickered just the same as always. Flayn flitted from place to place, trying her best to be of help to her returned friends. Students - well, soldiers now, - trained and ate and fished and fought as they had in their school days. Even with the dark cloud of war around them, it was good. 

They'd spent barely a year as students here before the war had torn the continent apart, but every room rang with memories. Mornings spent with Dedue in the damp warmth of the greenhouse, learning how to care for a riotous rainbow of flowers and herbs from the far reaches of the world. Lessons in their ever more crowded classroom, dutifully recording page after page of notes, glowing under Dimitri’s approving nod when Ashe answered a tricky question correctly. Lamplit evenings spent sharing stories and tea with Ingrid and Bernadetta and Ignatz in the library. Training in lancework and archery under his more experienced friends’ eyes. The day the Professor finally gave into Felix’s demands for a spar and gave them all an unforgettable show before finally claiming victory. The first time Ashe managed to knock down Dimitri in a lesson - how proud he’d been, then worried Dimitri would be offended, but Dimitri had only offered praise that had lingered warm in Ashe’s chest for days. 

He’d feared many of those old faces gone forever, but he soon found he was wrong. Their numbers continued to grow over the next few days, each new arrival contributing as much to their collected hope and spirit as it did to their war force. Caspar and Linhardt brought with them weapons and gold stolen from their loyal households. The two of them were traitors now, no doubt disowned and labeled attractive targets for the Empire’s spies. Raphael, Ignatz, and Lysithea arrived together, having pooled their funds to make the journey, and Marianne rode up not long after on Dorte. 

To everyone’s surprise, Bernadetta arrived soon after on a horse carrying a collection of strong bows and a bundle of letters she’d stolen from her father as she’d fled, outlining a potential internal plot against Edelgard. Dorothea came with her, the two having met in Enbarr and plotted their escape together.

By the end of the first week of the new year, most of their old rooms were once again inhabited, with a few notable exceptions, enough empty doorways to make Ashe uneasy as he walked through the dormitories. Yet not all of them were as sorrowful as the empty room beside his own. Dimitri had not told them what had befallen Dedue, but Ashe could guess, and he honored his lost friend for it. 

Petra, Dorothea reported, had returned to Brigid to lead her people in resisting the Empire. Ferdinand yet remained reluctantly with Hubert at Edelgard's side, his doubts in her methods growing with every coded letter he sent north. As for the Deer, Lorenz and Hilda were working with Claude to keep the peace in the increasingly fractured Alliance, and Leonie led her own force of mercenaries protecting the border villages. 

All the rest had come to Garreg Mach, to put their faith in the Professor who held Sothis’s power and the king who’d returned from the dead. 

***

The domed ceiling that had rung with music for generations of students and worshippers stood silent now but for the relentless howling of the wind through the broken stone and glass. The cathedral had been shattered years ago by some monstrous force and now gaped open to the frozen sky. Snow dusted the ruins and a chill mountain wind snaked through the rows of pews to wrap mercilessly around Ashe's neck. 

There, by the pile of rubble that had once been the altar, stood a hunched figure in fur and Faerghus blue.

The Professor put a hand on his shoulder. Not holding him back, but warning him.

“He isn’t himself,” he warned. “I don’t think he’s been himself since…” Since the Holy Tomb, went the unspoken thought. 

Sense told Ashe to let Dimitri be until he was ready to speak. But Ashe couldn't simply leave him there alone, not after all they had suffered to get here. After all he must have suffered to get here. So he approached. He knew better than to come up on Dimitri’s blind side, though his footsteps echoed loudly enough in the empty cathedral that Dimitri could hardly not know Ashe was there. And then Ashe paused behind him, unsure of what to say. Five years and he was still no good with his words...

Dimitri lifted his head but did not turn to look at him. “Ashe,” he said, low and bitter. “You have the look of a soldier. But under all that, you’re just as sweet as you were back then. Leave. There is no place for kindness and honor here."

He was wrong, and it struck Ashe in the heart to hear it. “Don’t say such things. I came here - all of us came here - for you. Because we made a promise. And because we need a king.”

“A king,” Dimitri scoffed. “Look elsewhere. I am no king.” 

"But you must. You're the last of the Blaiddyd bloodline..."

"To hell with my bloodline,” Dimitri spat, and it took all of Ashe's courage not to flinch back from the grief in the words. His hand tightened on his lance. “There is nothing left of us now. If I can appease the dead, it will be enough. I need not trouble myself with the living."

“W-what do you mean?” Ashe's voice trembled though he struggled to keep it steady. 

Dimitri waved a hand towards the empty space before them. "My father, my stepmother, my lost friends. Even now, they wait and they suffer, demanding ceaselessly that I bring them the head of Edelgard. I shall be allowed no rest until that deed is done."

A chill ran over him. "That's not- Dimitri, they _loved_ you, they wouldn't want-"

" _LEAVE!_ " The word echoed off the broken dome above. 

All the words he wanted to say died in his throat. Ashe bowed and departed, as calmly as if he had been dismissed from any other audience, though it was a struggle to keep from shaking. It tore at his heart to leave Dimitri alone with his ghosts, but if he was to be a knight, he must obey his king. Even so, he would not run, would not flee and let Dimitri convince himself that he was indeed a beast.


	2. Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War, and Felix.

They didn’t need to travel far for their first battle. War, as it had years ago, came uninvited to their door. 

Edelgard’s armies were well-prepared, but they fought at a disadvantage. Garret Mach made an ideal fortress, and there were few better ways to motivate an army than to have it be composed of friends defending their home. Though the defending force had gathered only recently, they knew the ruins better than the invaders. They had the Professor’s tactical genius on their side. And they had Dimitri, who Ashe fully believed could have taken on an entire battlefield by himself and still claimed victory.

He was terrifying and wonderful to watch. Once Ashe might have shied from that murderous strength, but Dimitri used it all in his allies’ defense. He might roar and curse anyone who dared step close to him, but he never struck at them, never did more than threaten. Ashe thought to himself, as he shot a pegasus rider out of the sky and felt his heart clench at the beast’s wounded cries, that Dimitri’s violence might be in truth doing more harm to himself than to his enemies. In their school days, he had so often spoken of the evil of killing, the way war destroyed everything in its path - even victors, and especially civilians. That hunger for justice, that hatred of violence, it was still there, but turned inward.

Somehow, Dimitri had agreed to obey the Professor’s orders, though he made no secret of his displeasure at the idea of being commanded. He kept himself to the front lines, far ahead of the others, charging forward to obliterate their enemies one by one without any signs of tiring, even as the siege stretched on through a long and bloody day. 

By the time Gilbert’s trap was sprung, it was hardly needed; only tatters of the army remained to be caught by the raging flames. Dimitri seized the commander by the back of his neck and dragged him off across the courtyard. Ashe didn’t follow. The Professor did, though, and when he returned the jagged blade of his holy sword was dark with blood.

***

When Dimitri did not attend the Professor’s meeting to review the battle, Ashe knew where to find him. 

He crossed the icy bridge to the cathedral as a patrol flew overhead. Ingrid waved to him from the back of her pegasus, ducking low for a moment before rejoining her formation. Ashe smiled at that, the cheer from even such a small thing enough to carry him through the great doors and into the cathedral, fading only at the sight of Dimitri again silent before the rubble. Blood and ash stained his cloak. Ashe had wondered if he had washed or eaten or even taken a moment to rest after the fight, and now the answer to that was obvious. 

He was not the only one there. Felix lurked in the wings, watching Dimitri and scowling. It wasn’t the first time Ashe had seen him there, and it was just the same as the others: he did not approach, didn’t even call Dimitri by name. It was infuriating. At last Ashe could bear it no longer.

“If you hate him so much, why are you here?” 

Felix snorted. “You really don’t see anything, do you? I warned you those books would ruin your mind. I’m not here for _that thing_. Not what it is now.” 

“He can _hear_ you _,_ ” Ashe hissed, hot rage nearly choking him. 

“So? It’s not like he’s going to listen,” Felix scoffed. 

“You can’t—”

“He’s done _nothing_ to deserve this,” Felix went on, venomous. “Scrounging around like a wild beast, heedless of friend or foe… it’s pathetic.” He shook his head, dark hair drifting from its ties. “He’s only useful as an attack dog.” A few moments of quiet but for Dimitri’s footsteps as he paced in front of the altar. “If he stops wallowing in shit,” Felix said at last, “maybe he can manage to lead us. But not like this.” He turned around, arms crossed, staring flint-eyed into darkened corners.

Angry as he was, Ashe could see the sense behind Felix’s words. He was afraid, Ashe thought, a little bit of sympathy coming with the realization. Afraid that they were putting their faith in the wrong place, that his old friend was truly gone forever. Deep down Ashe knew Dimitri couldn’t lead in this state. Hadn’t really even tried to. But the cruelty in those words tore gashes in his heart. If the rest of them continued to treat Dimitri like a filthy beast, he’d never be anything else. “King or not, he deserves to be treated like a human.”

And that was the point of it all, wasn’t it? He couldn’t be a king if he was not a man first, a man with friends and loved ones and something to protect, something to fight for. Allies to support him in that fight, comfort him in his pain, push him forward for the good of all. 

“We can’t rely on him,” Felix insisted. “That’s the truth.”

But they couldn’t afford to throw him aside either. Dimitri wasn’t going to turn around until he remembered there was something worth fighting for besides avenging the dead. 

The days went on, full of preparations and training, and Dimitri still holding himself utterly apart from it all. Those who had been closest to him at the Academy, the Lions, Marianne, and of course the Professor, they were working every day for Dimitri to know that they would not abandon him, would not leave him. Would lend their might to his cause, would wait for him to be ready to join them. 

The Professor stood beside him for a time every day, silently ignoring his threats. The others took turns keeping watch from a distance. Ingrid delivered news of their battles that Dimitri accepted with the barest of grumbled acknowledgements. Sylvain and Mercedes and Annette carried on cheerful conversations within Dimitri’s hearing, as if nothing at all had changed since their school days and all they had to worry about were lessons and books and chores and training. Dimitri never joined in, but Ashe thought he saw a change in his eyes when his old classmates were around. 

During the too-rare times that he slept, curled under his cloak and cursed with nightmares, Marianne prayed for him to find peace, that he could come to trust his companions again, and trust himself again.

But Ashe knew that sort of trust was difficult after a long time fending for yourself with what felt like the whole world arrayed against you.

Even on the march, Dimitri kept himself apart from them. He rode silently beside Byleth without looking at him, leaving the Professor and Gilbert to make their plans and deliver them to the army. It was nothing like the Dimitri Ashe had known, the dedicated and driven heir who’d spend sleepless nights working out the best tactics for each encounter despite his dislike of such abstract work, who’d do everything to keep his allies safe while risking himself almost constantly. 

No, Ashe thought, that, at least, was still the same. Dimitri still took the brunt of the fighting himself, was still determined to protect his friends. Except now it seemed he thought himself to be the danger. It reminded Ashe very much of a story he and Dimitri had read once in Dimitri’s books of old and obscure legend. It was the tale of a knight who angered a fairy and in punishment was transformed into a fire-breathing beast. He’d hidden himself away on a distant island, afraid to face his friends, who of course sought him out despite the danger in doing so. The knight was determined not to show his face, but when the ship was caught in a storm on the journey to the island, he flew from his cave out over the sea to rescue them from their sinking vessel. 

It was, like most of the stories in the oldest books, very much not the sort of story that was usually told of knights. None of Loog’s men would have faltered so, and if they had, would have stood no chance of redemption. 

Dimitri had told Ashe once that life wasn’t like the tales. Now he would have to teach Dimitri the same. 

***

The burning stones of Ailell scorched Ashe’s boots. The Valley of Torment. How many nightmares had he suffered about this place as a starving child certain the Goddess would sternly punish him for each and every thing he had stolen? He knew now that that wasn’t true, but it was no less unnerving to stand in the unearthly wasteland and watch the pools of molten stone bubble and spit.

His face ran with sweat. His exposed skin felt raw and burned by the mere touch of the air. Dimitri, though, made no concessions to the climate and instead fought on in the same dark armor and furs that he kept wrapped around himself as if they could keep the world at bay eternally. 

They did not have to wait long before they saw the soldiers massing on the crest of the valley. They were not allies. Ashe should have expected a battle to come to this ill-omened place. Rowe met them with an army and the determination of an old man seeking a triumphant last victory. Despite the scorching heat, Ashe shivered at the thought of what might have been had he not left Faerghus when he did. Would he have fought alongside the Gray Lion even if it meant he turned against his old friends? He couldn’t know for certain now. Was that a blessing or a curse? He supposed it didn’t matter now. Nobody could know both sides of time.

The battle wore on. There seemed to be no end to the enemy forces streaming over the hills. Again Dimitri charged ahead to cut a bloody path through his foes, snapped at any allies who drew near to keep their distance. 

Ashe quickly lost track of time. After a few hours of battle, he could almost believe they had all perished somehow without knowing it, and now truly roamed the world of the damned, fighting ceaseless war against other lost souls. More than once he feared he might collapse from the heat, only to be saved by one of Mercedes’s rejuvenating spells. Despite Dimitri’s strength and threats, Ashe kept watch over him, shooting down any soldiers who came too close before they could threaten him. He didn’t know if Dimitri noticed or even cared, but it didn’t matter, as long as he was safe. As long as they all survived this.

After far too long, he heard the Professor cry out a greeting. The Fraldarius forces swept into the valley and beat back the last of Rowe’s exhausted men. Rowe himself fell to a joint attack from Sylvain and Ingrid, cursing them as he died. If only the circumstances had been different, maybe it wouldn’t have been necessary. But Ashe didn’t have time to linger on that sad thought. 

Felix hung back as Duke Fraldarius handed over the Blaiddyd Relic and pledged his forces to Dimitri’s cause. Even after they returned to the monastery, Felix remained very elusive, standing as close to the door as he could during strategy meetings and leaving as soon as they were over, keeping to his room instead of hovering over Dimitri in the cathedral. Everyone could tell who he was avoiding. As far as Ashe knew, he’d barely spoken a word to Duke Fraldarius since he’d joined their forces. Ashe didn’t understand it. No matter what arguments they’d had, they were still family, right? Shouldn’t that count for something? He couldn’t presume to know what it was between them that kept them apart. From all he’d seen, he knew Rodrigue cared deeply for his son, had not kept him from his passions like the cruel fathers in the old tales. If his own father was still alive… but then, his life would have been very different had he not lost his parents when he did.

Ashe spent one quiet evening writing out letters to his brother and sister. He couldn’t tell them much about recent events or future plans, in case the letters fell into enemy hands, but then again he knew they wouldn’t care about tactical details anyway. So he settled for recounting the smaller things. The card game where the Professor had bluffed Sylvain out of a stack of gold, a fancy handkerchief, and a packet of sugar sweets. The opera performance where Dorothea and Annette played lovers separated by war and joyously reunited when an angel (played by Manuela, of course), descended from the heavens to stop the fighting, which in Dorothea’s opinion ruined a perfectly good tragedy. Annette, on the other hand, loved the whole experience, even when it meant singing in public. And as much as he complained over the brazen sentimentality, Felix hadn’t taken his eyes off her once during the whole performance. 

And he told them of the day he’d gone into Dimitri’s room and found the old book of tales still on the shelf, slightly mildewed but otherwise intact under five years’ worth of dust. Several places were marked with scraps of blue ribbon. Ashe checked them - each was one of his favorite stories from the collection. Dimitri must have marked them back during their school days. He had cared that much about what Ashe liked?

He sat there on Dimitri’s bed with the book in his lap for a long time, reading through the tales, wishing that someday he could share them with Dimitri again.


	3. Changing Winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A battle, a reunion with a friend thought lost, and a whisper of hope.

The last time Ashe had passed over the Great Bridge, its towers had been decorated with flags and garlands wishing the Alliance students well in the mock battle. Even when they returned still celebrating the Blue Lions’ victory, the guards’ cheers had been no less welcoming and the banners no less bright, even if they had come with no small amount of friendly jeering and teasing directed at Claude’s students. 

Today, it bristled with soldiers, its great mass cold and threatening against the grey sky. The Professor and the Knights surveyed the battlefield and began calling out orders against the clang of weapons and armor. 

And then a familiar voice came from across the stones, and a too-familiar figure charged forward from the guardhouse. Older, and more ragged than he had been in their schooldays, but there are real and alive. For a moment Ashe couldn’t believe it, but he had no time to doubt it.

Dimtri called out across the battlefield, and for a moment it was the young prince who spoke, and not the beast he had willed himself to become. Dedue had returned to them. Somehow, Dedue had returned to them.

The rest of the battle passed in a blur for Ashe after the first sight of his lost friend. The Professor sent him first to block the enemy reinforcements coming from the fort, and once they’d been driven back, he joined Leonie and the other archers in taking down the wyvern riders. Edelgard’s forces had come well-prepared for fighting on the confines of the bridge. Their fliers outnumbered Dimitri’s forces, enough that Ashe worried for a moment they might not be able to beat them back.

But they did, and through all of it he couldn’t help but watch Dedue, watch him at his place by Dimitri’s side, wielding his axe in defense of the future king. What had happened to him? How had he survived, how had he known to come here now? Ashe heard the promise Dimitri begged of him, and felt almost as if he shouldn’t have been witness to such a private thing.

As soon as the battle was over, the Empire generals dead and their remaining forces retreating, the Lions joyfully surrounded Dedue, backing off only a little once it was clear he disliked the crowding. Annette peppered him with questions, Felix scowled but admitted himself impressed by his determination, Mercedes strode forward to embrace him and asked nothing else. Byleth offered a rare smile and promptly assigned him to the camp work rotation. 

Ashe hugged him tightly and then hung back. They could talk later, when Dedue was ready for it. It was enough for now to know he was safe. The details could come later.

Dimitri rode close to Dedue on the way home. He didn’t speak, though he kept glancing to Dedue as if afraid he might vanish again. 

Dedue stood guard at Dimitri’s tent that night. Ashe offered to take some of the watch, but Dedue stayed firm and shook his head, and Ashe accepted it, though he made sure to bring Dedue a canteen and a hand pie before going to bed himself, camped as close as he dared to his prince’s tent. 

That night, for the first time in their travel, Ashe wasn’t woken by muffled cries of distress. And when Dimitri emerged in the morning, he looked less haggard than he had since the day they reunited. It occurred to him that he might have felt sad, that Dimitri could find such peace in Dedue’s presence, but he felt nothing of the sort, only joy that his friend had returned and that he could comfort Dimitri where the others had been unable to break through their prince’s isolation and pain.

They returned from the Great Bridge much cheered, bringing with them not only Dedue but another old friend: Lorenz, who Byleth had somehow convinced to call off his reluctant attack and join them. Ashe, entirely distracted in watching Dedue, in wondering what to say, what had happened in those five years, hadn’t even noticed him until a good way into their march. But he was glad Lorenz had rejoined them. He might have been arrogant as a student, but he was never cruel, and he’d spoken to Ashe with far more respect than others had in Ashe’s life, even those without such status behind them. 

Another familiar face was waiting for them at Garreg Mach: Ferdinand, at last done with Edelgard’s plots and willing to turn over what he knew for the protection of Fodlan. He brought with him dire news. 

Professor Hanneman grew pale at his descriptions of men turned into rampaging beasts. Linhardt listened with a nauseated curiosity, shaking his head at the tortures Ferdinand relayed. Sylvain nearly broke his lance slamming it into the stone pathway, and he ate little that night, no doubt distracted by dark memories. 

The Professor sent Ferdinand off to bathe and rest, and called a meeting to discuss the revelations. Ashe came out of it still troubled, mourning those men the Empire had sacrificed in such a terrible way, and very glad he was not in charge of planning how to counter them. That, he would leave to the Professor and the Knights of Seiros.

There was still no word from the Alliance, and all Lorenz would tell them was that Claude favored the Kingdom more than he did the Empire, but couldn’t yet risk choosing a side, even as Empire forces drew ever closer. He would have to make up his mind eventually, Ashe thought. The Alliance couldn’t remain neutral forever, not squeezed between great powers on all sides.

What was Claude waiting for?

At least the situation wasn’t all bad. Dimitri did indeed look a little healthier, in no small part because of Dedue’s insistence that he eat and sleep. But it had only been a few days, and he still wasn’t well, or anywhere near it. And he still would not join them for training or strategy meetings. Some of the soldiers groused about this. Mercedes responded sternly to any implications that Dedue’s return or the army’s support or a victorious battle should mend all of Dimitri’s pain at once. 

If anything, Dedue’s return had made Dimitri all the more determined to conquer Edelgard before any of his friends were truly lost in the effort. 

The meeting drew to a close, people filing out of the Cardinals’ Room and towards various other tasks and training. Ashe’s feet took him to the greenhouse. Dedue was inside, crouching over a patch of flower vines and gently untangling the weeds that encroached on their territory. Ashe hesitated at the doors. If Dedue wanted to be left alone, he wouldn’t interrupt. 

He needn’t have worried. “You may stay,” Dedue said, without looking up from his work. “I could use some assistance with the shaded plots.”

“Of course,” Ashe said, gathering up some tools and crouching on the stones by the vegetable beds. “Just tell me what you need.”

Dedue gives him the slightest of smiles. “I believe you are experienced enough not to need my advice for every detail.”

For the first time in a while, Ashe laughs. “You’re right. But I still want to listen to you,” he says.

They work together for a while, Dedue occasionally offering direction or advice, or asking Ashe about the greenhouse keeper’s current plans, what’s been done in his absence. As tempted as Ashe is to ask, they do not speak of Dimitri, and for that he can tell Dedue is grateful. Whatever has passed between Dimitri and Dedue since their reunion is only theirs to know. 

Dedue tells him a little of what happened in those five years, how he freed Dimitri from Cornelia’s planned execution, how the people of Duscur came to his rescue. How he lived among them while seeking word of Dimitri, speaking a language he had almost forgotten and celebrating festivals he had long ago thought lost to him. 

“Among my people,” he explained, “the first of the harvest is burned as an offering. The smoke reaches the gods and is pleasant to them.”

Pleasant? All the smoke had ever done to Ashe was make him cough. “They’ve got strange taste,” he commented, and then blushed in shame upon hearing himself. “I’m sorry, Dedue, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

Dedue’s expression didn’t change, but somehow he seemed amused. “I said the same thing as a child. My aunts, who performed the ceremonies for our village, laughed and reminded me that the gods’ preferences would naturally seem strange to mortal men.” He filled one basket with bright, fat fruits and reached for another. “There are songs and prayers for the harvest, as for all festivals. My first year among the survivors, I was ashamed to realize I could not remember all the words to the prayers my aunts had taught me.” 

He was quiet for a moment. Ashe thought of the silly little songs his mother used to sing. The day when his sister begged to hear them, when he reached for the words and couldn’t find them. He’d made up his own, and she’d barely known the difference, but it hadn’t been nearly the same.

Dedue continued. “And then they told me that the prayers they spoke were not the same as the ones I had known. They had changed over the years to suit their new surroundings.” 

Dedue was still looking at the flowers, but his thoughts were much farther away. “There were children in that settlement who had never heard the original songs. Who had never seen our homeland,” he said. “And yet, they are still our people. Living, growing, singing, playing.”

“That’s beautiful,” Ashe said. “Even after so much pain, people can keep living.” There was probably more Dedue wasn’t telling him. He had heard stories of how Duscur survivors were treated, stories that filled him with rage and grief. But he wasn’t going to press. 

“Someday,” Dedue went on, “with His Highness’s help, I hope for them to return to our homeland. To know our songs as they once were as well as what they have become. I do not know which they will choose to sing to their children, but that will be their choice to make.”

“I hope to see it myself someday,” Ashe said. There would be so much to do after the war was over.

A few hours later, they brought baskets laden with food to the kitchen and set about preparing a feast. Not a true feast, because they still had to ration what little stores they had, but it certainly felt like one, with the optimism in the air that even word of Edelgard’s deeds could not dampen.

Dimitri, predictably, did not join them. Dedue had expected this and set a plate aside for Ashe to deliver.

As he entered the cathedral, Ashe thought he heard Dimitri speaking, arguing or pleading with someone unseen, but he couldn’t make out the words before he was silent again.

Ashe set the tray down on a pew and approached. “Your Highness, I’ve brought dinner,” he said, trying for something cheery but falling short of it. 

“I have told you to leave here,” Dimitri said, twisting his lance in his hand. “I could not bear it if-” He cut himself off, and finished instead with, “You will not survive my battles. Go elsewhere, where you might do more good.”

“I’m staying,” Ashe said.

Dimitri whirled on him, Areadbhar’s glowing blade passing within inches of his throat. Ashe stumbled back, tripped, fell. His head crashed into the edge of a pew as he went down and he cried out in pain and surprise.

Horror flashed in Dimitri’s eye, only for a moment, and he pulled the Relic back and stared at it as if it had betrayed him, breathing rough.

Ashe put a hand to his head; it ached and throbbed, but there was blessedly no blood. He’d had worse roughhousing with his siblings when they were children.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he babbled. “That was my fault. I’m sorry.” Still on the ground, he scrambled back a few paces, until Dimitri’s death grip on his blade loosened somewhat and he breathed again.

“If you displease me, I will end you,” Dimitri hissed.

“You won’t,” Ashe breathed, as if possessed by a sudden surge of confidence and surety. Perhaps the fall had rattled his brains more than he thought. “You’re still a good man, Your Highness. And you still want to be.”

The sound that came from Dimitri’s mouth could have been a hysterical sob or an angry snarl, but Ashe’s thoughts swirled too quickly for him to tell. 

“Y-you want justice. So do I. But you have to trust yourself. And… and let us help you.” He recalled memories of long, warm nights studying in the prince's room, Dimitri's kindness and Ashe's enthusiasm somehow enough to bridge the vast gap between them, if only for a few hours at a time. Somewhere under the furs and scowls was the same boy who had offered Ashe fine sweets for helping him mend supplies, who had done all he could to make a stuttering peasant boy comfortable working and studying and fighting alongside him.

“Leave,” Dimitri said, softer this time. “Please.” 

This time, Ashe held his ground. “Not until you eat something.” He took the tray from the pew, very, very grateful that he had put it down before he fell. “Dedue cooked this, so I know it’s something you like.”

Dimitri gave a sharp laugh. “It’s all wasted on me,” he said, but his eye didn’t leave the platter.

Well, Ashe had promised, so he wasn’t going to leave. He set the tray down in front of Dimitri and took a seat near the back of the cathedral, wishing he’d thought to bring a book. Or a coat. Despite the changing season, the mountains were still cold, and the cathedral especially. 

He didn’t remember when exactly his eyes slipped closed. He woke to dawn light pouring in through broken glass, and when he moved, he found a familiar fur cape draped heavy and warm over his back.

On the bench beside him, the dishes were empty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update! This chapter was tough to write. I wanted to give Dedue a chance to shine without retreading too much canon plot. 
> 
> (also, if anyone wants to read this as Dimitri/Ashe/Dedue, they're very welcome to do so! My focus will still be on Dimiashe, but you can't deny Dedue is very important to them both)
> 
> Next is Gronder...


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gronder, what came after, and a very important night.

Edelgard set the hill alight. Ashe clung to the ballista as the flames sprung up around him, wood cracking and metal heating. Panicked, he spun around; there was just enough space for him to dart through the inferno, but there were two heavily-armored Imperial knights waiting there, leaving him no way to take them both out before they killed him…

And then something slammed into him from the side just before the whole thing collapsed into a flaming pyre, but Dimitri was off again and crossing blades with a masked Imperial soldier before Ashe could thank him.

The Professor shouted an order; heeding it, Ashe hurried east, taking down a rider in Alliance colors. He thought the soldier might have survived after the horse bolted away and they fell in a crash of armor. He hoped they’d survived, at least. Claude’s forces had nothing to gain here, no reason to suffer. He could just as easily have sat back and let the Kingdom forces take on the Empire. But then, Ashe supposed that a leader like Claude would not take that risk without an appropriate reward hanging in wait. Better to keep on his guard against a potentially hostile army than to throw his weight to one side and risk attack from within and without. Ashe could understand that, but it didn’t make the fight any easier. 

He heard Areadbhar crash against Edelgard’s great shield, saw the blade flash golden as it struck. She shouted something to her generals; moments later the call for retreat spread across the field. For a moment Ashe didn’t believe it, until he watched the few remaining fighters flee west. The war would not be decided here, it seemed. Still wary, Ashe lowered his bow, sparing the Imperial footsoldier he’d planned to target. The man hurried away, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to rejoin the others. No doubt they would meet again, wherever Edelgard led her forces next.

But that was for later, for the Professor and the knights to decide and plan for. Dimitri’s forces hurried to join him and celebrate their victory. Ashe counted them as he went, pace slowed by the aches in his feet he’d only just started to feel: Dedue, Ferdinand on his horse, Ingrid astride her pegasus, Raphael carrying Bernadetta - was she hurt? - Mercedes still crouched by the wounded, bathed in the glow of healing magic...

Ashe was too far away to see exactly what happened after the girl darted onto the battlefield, but he was close enough to see Rodrigue fall, and close enough to hear Felix scream. 

By the time he reached them, it was over. Tears still dripped down Dimitri’s face, yet he turned roughly aside any attempts at comfort.

Ashe watched him from a distance as they rode back towards the monastery, not daring to approach or disturb him. Dimitri stared off into the distance, deep in thought. He wouldn’t let any of them come near, not even Dedue, and Ashe was certain he never slept a moment when they made camp. 

By the time they marched exhausted up the mountain road to Garreg Mach in cold pouring rain, he’d seemed to come to some internal conclusion, some certainty. Still he spoke to nobody, still he hardly raised his head, still he kept his distance from his friends.

There must be something they could do for him. But as long as he refused to accept it, it would be impossible. 

Dinner that night was a grim affair that even Dedue’s cooking couldn’t lighten. They had won, yes, but they’d lost so many people to achieve their victory. None of the commanders returned with all their forces. Many of them were people Ashe had known. Not personally, not nearly as close as his old classmates, but laughing voices he knew from the dining hall and training and the market. He’d never get used to coming back to the monastery to missing faces and grim survivors trying their best to joke through it, making teasing salutes to lost friends over too many cups of celebratory wine. Proper funeral rites, for Rodrigue and all the rest, would come with the morning.

Ashe would forever regret that he didn’t notice Dimitri was missing until the Professor brought him in from the rain. He’d been taking a tray of food to Felix’s room, which had led to trying to talk to him, which had led to listening to him rage over the senselessness of what had happened. And Ashe listened, listened until Felix finally turned away and told him to leave.

He’d held back all his protests, let his defenses of Dimitri burn his throat unspoken. Felix was in enough pain already. He didn’t need to be told where he was wrong, not tonight. And perhaps he wasn’t wrong. They couldn’t know what might have happened, had circumstances been different. They could only go forward from where they were. 

He stepped outside to make sure that Marianne and Ingrid had come in from the stables, and that was when he saw the Professor leading Dimitri by the hand towards him.

The rain drummed against the stone, flattened his hair against his head and made him shiver. How long had Dimitri been out here? They’d come from the stables; had he planned to leave alone?

Ashe met the Professor’s eyes in silent question.

“Help me,” Byleth said. “Watch over him.”

He didn’t need to ask. Ashe held out his hand. “Come with me. My room is closest…”

Dimitri hesitated. “Ashe - I’ve troubled you enough already, you shouldn’t…”

“It’s all right.” Ashe looked up at him, willing him to understand. “Dimitri. Let me help.”

Dimitri’s eye widened at the sound of his name. After a too-long moment, he nodded and stepped forward.

Ashe turned to the Professor. “Can you get me some hot water, please? And make sure Dedue knows he’s all right.”

“I will,” Byleth said, and set off, cloak flapping behind him.

It didn’t take long to reach the student dormitories, but it felt far too long with only the sound of their shoes splashing through the puddles on the stone paths. Every moment Ashe feared Dimitri might change his mind, might charge off alone into danger. At last Ashe pushed open his door, grateful his room was one of the first in the row.

“Come inside,” he pleaded.

“We need to prepare,” Dimitri said as he stepped inside. “We need to-” He shivered violently. 

Ashe frowned. “You’re soaking wet. You should change into something warm. Please.”

Dimitri growled, but there was no passion in it. He obeyed silently, stripping off the damp layers. He looked so much smaller once the cape and fur lay discarded on the floor. He sat on Ashe’s bed, hair falling over his face. Even with armor on, it was painfully apparent how thin he was, starved and unrested even months after the Professor and his army had arrived at Garreg Mach. 

Ashe dug out a towel from the closet and pushed it into Dimitri’s hands. He took it without a word and ran it distractedly through his dripping hair. Ashe waited by the desk, unsure if getting any closer would be welcome, but unwilling to move even another step away. 

A long time passed like that, marked only by the rustle of fabric and Dimitri’s roughened breathing. At last Dimitri sighed and bowed his head, hunched over himself on the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry, Ashe. For everything. I’ve behaved abhorrently to you, and to everyone else who only meant well. You tried to help me, to save me, and in return I belittled you and I hurt you.” 

As much as he wanted to, Ashe couldn’t deny that. “You’re not that person anymore,” he insisted. “And that’s what matters to me.”

“How can you be so certain?” Dimitri rasped, voice choked. “I’ve done so many terrible things. Killed so many people… they were soldiers and thieves but there should have been another way... I’ve abandoned my own forces, you, my _people…_ ”

“You haven’t abandoned them. You’re preparing to return to them.”

“I can never make amends for that. It will never be enough…”

“It’s enough for me.” 

Dimitri wrung the damp towel in his hands until it tore with an ugly sound of snapping thread. Dimitri dropped the pieces, mouth twisting in dismay. “I’m sorry, I-”

Ashe couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s all right,” he said, pulling it away and throwing it into a corner. He could afford to have one silly thing ruined. He no longer needed to worry about preserving every scrap of cloth against the cold of winter. 

A soft knock on the door heralded Byleth with a steaming kettle and a reassuring nod saying all was well, for now. Nothing outside their room needed to matter, not until Dimitri was ready for it. 

Ashe opened a cupboard and breathed a small sigh of relief to find the tin Dedue had given him still there and with enough tea left to serve them both. It wasn’t the exact same blend Dimitri had shared with him years ago when a hateful student’s threats had intruded on his sleep, but it was close, and it had soothed Ashe’s stresses many times before. 

His tea things were rough, a gift from his sister chosen more for looks than craft and worn years of use, but they would serve for this. He thought of the dirt and sweat left ignored on Dimitri’s skin and poured some water out into a bowl with a cloth by it, in case it was needed. There was more than enough left for two cups. While it was steeping, he turned back to Dimitri. 

Wincing, Dimitri eased his gloves off over burn-mottled, calloused hands. Ashe thought of bare skin and deep scars glimpsed across the student baths, of that night long ago when he had borne witness to Dimitri’s tortured dreams.

Cautious, gentle, he set a hand against Dimitri’s shoulder. “Let me?”

Dimitri nodded. Ashe unfastened and removed Dimitri’s armor piece by piece, setting each carefully aside, until he was left only in threadbare underlayers. The protective padding under the metal hadn’t fared much better; in places it had worn away to almost nothing. Ashe winced at the sight of the painful red sores rubbed into Dimitri’s too-pale skin. He bore many, many more scars than when Ashe had last seen him, and not all had had the fortune of healing well. A handful of dirty scabs stood out newer than the rest, no doubt earned at Gronder and not examined since the battle.

“Mercedes made an ointment for those,” Ashe said, as much to break the silence as anything else. “I think I have some here…”

“What…?” Dimitri muttered, confused.

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

“I… it doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” Ashe insisted. “Please, at least let me wash it.” He reached for the cloth, dipped it in the warm water.

“Fine,” Dimitri said. And then, “Please.”

It felt like a gift when Dimitri let him near, let him touch, let him wash the grime from his wounds and apply healing herbs to soothe the pain he wouldn’t admit to. Had he been allowed this years ago, he would have felt he was serving his lord. That was still true now, but more than anything else he felt he was helping a friend. He wanted to do all he could to comfort Dimitri, to raise him out of his darkness and pain, not only because he was his lord, but because Ashe loved him. How could he not? He’d known it for so long it had simply become a part of him, comfortable and natural.

“You can look at me, all right?” he said. He wanted to see Dimitri’s face, no matter what wounds it bore.

Dimitri glanced up, good eye wide, then looked away again. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this…”

“Let me decide that,” Ashe insisted. He ran the cloth up Dimitri’s shoulder, behind his neck. They were so close now, and Ashe so longed to reassure him… Before he could think too much, before he could stop himself, he leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss to Dimitri’s forehead, right above his injured eye.

Ashe heard Dimitri’s breath catch, feared for a moment he’d overstepped terribly. His heart stuttered… and then Dimitri met his eyes, and smiled. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

Ashe turned back to the desk in a useless attempt to hide his blush. He tossed the towel in with the rest of his clothes to be washed, poured the tea into the waiting cups. He held out a cup for Dimitri to take. After a few moments, he reached out and accepted it, holding it carefully as if he feared he’d break it. 

“Stay,” Dimitri pleaded, as if he feared Ashe might vanish into the shadows of his room. “Please.”

“I'm not leaving you,” Ashe promised. 

“You… you are not afraid of me?”

“Only that you’ll hurt yourself,” Ashe said, and as the words came out of his mouth they surprised him with how true they were. He moved to sit beside Dimitri on the bed, praying that he wouldn’t pull away. 

And he didn’t. Dimitri shook his head in a ripple of golden hair. “The Goddess should bless your persistence, if she’s truly listening. You returned to me again and again even when I shoved you away.” He sipped from the teacup and sighed. “Back then… I thought for so long it would be selfish of me to stay near you when you seemed so ill at ease in my presence. And that you would surely turn away when you saw what I truly was. That I would betray you by falling short of your dreams.”

“You didn’t,” Ashe said. But that wasn’t the point, was it? He sighed. “I shouldn’t have put those expectations on you. I’m sorry for that. But I always did think you were magnificent. Even when you were hurting. Especially then. I thought it was incredible that someone so exalted would care about someone like me, and the rest of our class.” 

“Of course I did,” Dimitri said, with the faintest hint of a laugh. That was a good sign. “You were all so good, so strong. I could not have asked for better companions.”

“We’re here for you.”

Dimitri sighed. “Thank you, Ashe. For everything.” 

Ashe’s heart raced dizzyingly, warmth flooding him. He counted himself lucky that Dimitri didn’t seem to expect an immediate answer, because he couldn’t make one.

Dimitri drained his cup and set it aside. “As soon as we are able, we leave for Fhirdiad. I’ve left my kingdom for too long. I will lead the march this time. If you’ll accept my leadership.”

Ashe smiled. “That’s what we’ve been waiting for.” His own tea had cooled before he’d gotten to it, but he didn’t mind. “You should sleep,” he told Dimitri. It was long past dark, and he knew Dimitri had gotten no rest in days.

Dimitri paused with his hands on the blankets. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Sleep. Please. I’ll be here.”

Dimitri shook his head helplessly. “I don’t… the dreams, I can’t keep them away.”

“You’ll be safe here,” Ashe promised. “I won’t leave you.”

Dimitri studied Ashe for a long moment before he lowered his head to the pillow and let his eye slip closed. “Thank you,” he breathed.

He slept through until morning under Ashe’s watch. Ashe spent some of the long quiet hours reading, and some thinking, and some simply watching Dimitri, relieved beyond telling that he was at last able to rest. Though morning light found him tired and worn, he couldn’t regret a moment of it, and not just because any loyal knight would have done the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left! And some scenes I've had ready and waiting through the entire project...
> 
> Thank you for your comments!!
> 
> Come talk on my Discord! https://discord.gg/CdXGmY5


	5. Leadership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of a slow recovery, supported by friends.

“Ashe.”

Dimitri’s voice was rough, that was undeniable, but it was no longer a furious growl. Ashe wouldn’t ask for anything more. He lifted his eyes from the page he’d long since stopped reading. He’d almost dozed off watching the dawn light creep across the paper, illuminating line after line of one of Ingrid’s favorite stories, the tale of a farm girl who’d raised an army of pegasi to defend her land. Now he set the book down and turned to Dimitri. 

He looked incredible like this, all shaggy golden hair and battle-carved muscle. Seeing him stretched out, comfortable and rested, warmed Ashe in so many ways. He longed to watch, to touch...

Ashe needed to say something. “Good morning,” he managed, suddenly shy. He hoped it was. The rain had stopped at some point during the night, but the courtyard and grounds would still be damp… “Did you sleep well?” Mundane talk, nothing like what they’d shared before, but with how Dimitri had been the past few weeks, it was a blessing.

Dimitri sat up in bed and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “Thank you,” he said, quiet and earnest. He had pulled off the eyepatch at some point during the night, revealing the cruel scar beneath. He winced when he realized and covered it with a hand. But Ashe didn’t look away, didn’t give him any reason to think it fearsome or ugly. The sight of the roughly-healed wound was nothing compared to the pain Dimitri must have suffered from it, out in the wild with no healers or medicine to ease it. He’d spent so long alone, and so long haunted by his own dark thoughts. But that didn’t have to be true any longer.

“How are you feeling?” Ashe said into the quiet. 

Dimitri thought, shook his head. “...I don’t truly know, to be honest. Better, I suppose. But I know what I have to do.” There was still pain there, grief and exhaustion that couldn’t be fixed in a night, but there was strength too, a confidence backed not by violence and rage but by honor and dedication. Dimitri’s next words were commanding, spoken by a king. “The moment our forces are ready, we march to Fhirdiad. Rest assured, I will still take this war to Edelgard, and defeat her. But not until my people are safe. Rod-” He hesitated, mouth twisting. “Our friends will not have died in vain. I will make certain of it,” he finished. 

A quiet knock came at the door. Ashe scrambled up to open it, wincing at the aches in his limbs from sitting on the floor all night. It was Dedue, carrying a basket with enough food for all of them and a set of clothes for Dimitri. 

“The Professor told me what happened,” he said. “I am proud of you both.” When he turned back to Dimitri to hand over the bundle of clothing, he was smiling. 

As Dimitri dressed, Ashe helped Dedue set out plates, food, tea. This time, as much as he wanted to look, he didn’t, because he didn’t trust he would be able to turn away again.

The three of them ate together, speaking little of the previous night as Dimitri composed the speech he would give to the others. The food Dedue brought was simple but good. If Ashe piled more fruit preserves onto his bread than he usually did, he was sure none of them minded much. He didn’t miss the way Dedue slid more sausages and potatoes onto Dimitri’s plate every time he looked away. Dimitri didn’t miss it either, but he pretended not to, and ate all he was given obediently.

The speechwriting went somewhat less smoothly. One of the things Ashe had always found most endearing about Dimitri was the way he could stumble uncomfortably through a prepared speech or class reading, and then in a moment of emotion come out with the most beautiful, bold words Ashe had ever heard outside stories. But it was the sort of energy that seemed to slip away as soon as he tried intentionally to capture it, leaving him fumbling. 

The third time Dimitri interrupted a clumsy sentence with a grumble of dissatisfaction and scrubbed his hand across his face, Ashe frowned. “If you’re not ready,” he began, “you don’t need to see everyone right away. The Professor could…”

“No,” Dimitri said. “I’ve kept them waiting long enough. They deserve this. I can only hope they will accept me, after I all but abandoned them.”

“You didn’t,” Ashe said, quiet. “You’ve always been working for the good of others.”

“Fighting for the dead, and doing the living more harm in the process,” Dimitri said, hand tightening on his fork for a brief moment. He hadn’t yet donned his gloves, and his old burns showed dark and rough on his skin. Ashe longed to hold his hands, longed to trace those patterns and admire his strength. He wanted to say that he understood that fight, knew the weight of promises lost family left behind. And Dedue knew it even deeper than he. All of them bore duties they had yet to fulfill from their fallen family.

Dedue spoke before he could. “When I lived among the Duscur survivors, they taught me that the dead deserve honor, and the living protection. We cannot save those who are lost to us. But we can remember them.” 

“That’s a very wise way of looking at it,” Ashe agreed. Then, to his embarrassment, he had to fight back a yawn before he could continue. “I’m sorry, Dedue. I promise I’m listening…”

Thankfully, Dedue wasn’t offended. “You should sleep after the meeting, Ashe,” he said. “The Professor and I can take care of any tasks you’ve been assigned.”

“Yes, please, rest,” Dimitri said, a little guiltily. “You must be tired.”

He was. He thought back - he must have been awake since they rose early on the last day of their march home. It had taken until now for the full weight of that weariness to tumble down on top of him. But he couldn’t regret a moment of the previous night. Of the peace in knowing Dimitri had finally begun to break free of the grief that chained him. Of the pride in knowing himself trusted to protect him.

“After the meeting,” he said. “I want to hear you.”

Dimitri drew himself up, bright, regal. “Tell the Professor to gather our forces in the Cardinals’ Room. I’m ready to speak to them.”

***

Annette leapt up from the table as Dimitri entered flanked by Dedue and Ashe. “Your Highness! It’s so good to see you!”

Mercedes giggled. “Sit down, Annie. Don’t crowd him!”

“It’s all right,” Dimitri reassured her. Ashe could see the tension in his movements, but he hadn’t retreated. 

Ingrid put her hand to her heart, eyes glowing. “Whatever your plans, Your Highness,” she declared, “we will support you. And we’ll win.”

Everybody was waiting, arranged around the table or standing by the windows. Except for one. Felix wasn’t there. Ashe couldn’t blame him, even if part of him dearly wanted to. He only hoped that time might help him. Time had been the only thing that had helped, when it had been Lonato. 

“Um…” Annette paused, weighing something in her mind, and then she smiled. “...Can I hug you? You look like you need it.”

At Dimitri’s nod, she flung herself onto him and buried her face in his chest. Dimitri froze for a moment, and then carefully brought his arms around her. 

“I’m so happy to have you back,” she said into his furs. “We’re going to win this.”

“When we do,” Dimitri said, “it’ll be thanks to all of you.” 

Annette finally pulled away, only to leap on Ashe with hardly any warning first. “Hey!” he laughed, stumbling back. The two of them might have toppled to the ground if Dimitri hadn’t caught Ashe’s shoulder and pushed them back to a less precarious position. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Yeah, but you’re our friend too!”

Mercedes watched with clear amusement. “Does Dedue get a hug?”

Dedue stepped back. “That can wait,” he said, not unkindly. Annette settled for taking his hand and Ashe’s and pulling them into empty seats she must have been saving for them. 

She smiled up at Dimitri. “Go on!” she encouraged, pushing him towards the front of the table..

Ashe looked around at all his friends. His spirit lifted again at the sight of Annette’s delighted eyes, Sylvain’s cheerful wink, Marianne’s hesitant smile. Ignatz looked like he was planning a painting. Lysithea, busy poring over a book of dark magic with Lorenz, looked more bored than anything else, but there was nothing but confidence in the glances she gave Dimitri. 

The Professor stood to offer Dimitri the place at the head of the table. He stepped forward but remained standing, cast his gaze around the table at his allies arrayed there waiting for his word.

Dimitri took a breath, and spoke. “My friends, thank you for coming here. I know I haven’t done a great deal to deserve it these past months….” 

What followed was not what he had planned but instead something from his heart, achingly remorseful. His voice faltered more than once, but he kept going. Ashe and Dedue shared a long glance as Dimitri spoke, pride blossoming in both their eyes.

“We must take back the Kingdom for our people. For the good of Fodlan. And I will lead that effort, if you will accept me after all I’ve done.”

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Sylvain said. He smacked Dimitri on the shoulder, prompting a startled look that very nearly had Ashe bursting into laughter. “You think we’re going to turn away now?”

“Of course we will!” Ingrid insisted. She smiled. “Welcome back, Your Highness.”

The surprise that came across Dimitri’s face when the others agreed to follow him without even hesitating, that hurt almost as much as the deep shame in his words. How long would it be before he truly trusted they were behind him to the end? He had neglected his duties, yes. Came very close to leading them down a terrible path. But he’d risen again with more determination than before. Their victory at Gronder had turned the war in their favor. Dimitri’s leadership, the Professor’s tactics, the army’s skills, that would carry them to victory.

***

More than a few whispers passed through the monastery at the change in Dimitri’s demeanor, some kinder than others. Many, some of whom had not even been at Gronder, still cursed him for the loss of an honored commander, and muttered to each other that their prince’s madness would surely return to ruin them all. Others praised his renewed strength and called it the work of the Goddess. In Ashe’s mind, that was little better than the former. He couldn’t deny that the Goddess must have had some hand in it, but to give Her all the credit belittled all Dimitri had suffered to better himself, to finally take on the leadership that was his birthright. To dismiss his pain as a foolishness that must be set aside… that did not sit well at all. 

Most of them were smart enough not to say such things in close hearing of Dimitri’s allies. The ones that didn’t quickly found themselves assigned the most odious chores or difficult training tasks. And there was no shortage of those to be done. The next weeks were filled with planning, gathering supplies, studying maps, training battalions in new tactics. Dimitri insisted on attending most of the meetings and on training alongside his forces. It didn’t start out as well as Ashe had wished. The soldiers, though skilled and disciplined, were doubtful at first.

But Dimitri spoke calmly, advised and corrected his soldiers on their errors instead of snapping and roaring, and before long they were sparring with him and running drills without any hesitation at all except for the eternal discomfort over his royal status that Dimitri had always brushed aside in favor of fighting his opponents as equals. 

He looked better too, his shoulders straighter and his face less shadowed with exhaustion and pain. More and more often he submitted to the others’ offered care, though it was still hard for him to accept aid without apologies coming to his lips. 

He spent more time with his former classmates, not only in strategy meetings but for training and meals as well. Though it was sometimes difficult for him to be around the excitement for too long before needing to retreat to his room or risk a terrible headache. At those times, he let only Dedue or Ashe near in his darkened room as he silently wrestled with the pain. 

And there were still nights when his ghosts or his shame overwhelmed him, when Ashe would find him muttering promises and apologies to the empty air, gently guide him to his room with a hand fearless on his arm, read him stories from their book of ancient tales until the voices faded and he could sleep. Too often he would return to work, even when Ashe urged him to rest. 

Fortunately, the Professor agreed with Ashe and Dedue that Dimitri needed some time that wasn’t spent in exercise or work, and so there came a day when the training grounds and task rosters were all conveniently full of things that couldn’t be interrupted, leaving Dimitri free for Ashe to take him into the garden for tea.

“It still surprises me, sometimes, that they listen,” Dimitri confessed over chamomile and sugar cookies. “They have little reason to trust me.”

“That’s not true,” Ashe said. “Yesterday, that fight against the thieves outside of town, your battalion did a lot more than anybody else. You led them well.”

“I  _ fought _ well,” Dimitri corrected, a touch of distaste to the words. Even his greatest talent couldn’t bring him untainted pride. He laughed bitterly. “Even in my worst state, I am skilled at violence. But that will not win us this war. Proper tactics, loyal forces… those are far more valuable.” 

Ashe took another cookie and pushed one onto Dimitri’s plate. “We have all of that. But we need you.” 

Dimitri took the offered treat, took a bite, chewed it slowly. “I will not fall so far again,” he said, and then stronger, “I will not fail you.” 

Oh, how it hurt to hear him think so low of himself. And how it lifted Ashe’s heart to hear him rise again. “We’ll all be here for you. You just need to ask. And the soldiers… they’ll come around, I’m sure of it.” 

Dimitri shook his head. “You are always so confident. It’s helped me so much.”

“I’m not, not all the time,” Ashe admitted, even as he blushed at the praise. “This war is terrifying.” He stared at the crumbs of sugar on his plate. “Going into battle each time and not knowing who you’re going to lose. Or if you’re going to come out of it alive.” He looked up, forced himself to shake off the dark thoughts. “But I believe in the Professor, and I believe in you.”

Dimitri smiled. “I suppose I have no other choice but to live up to your expectations.” He poured them both more tea while Ashe tried not to stare at that smile. It was easier to see, now that he’d tied his hair back. “How have you fared?” Dimitri asked, startling Ashe out of his thoughts. “Have you had time to rest? I imagine there hasn’t been much time for anything besides our preparations.”

“It’s been good, actually. Everyone’s so dedicated. There’s an energy in the air, every day. People are hopeful.” Even if Dimitri hadn’t noticed it yet, it was true. Daily chores conducted with a little more purpose, cheers a little bit louder at tournaments and battle exercises. “I’ve had time to work with Dedue in the kitchen and the greenhouse, and I’ve been trading books with Ingrid and Bernadetta. Did you know Bernadetta writes her own stories? They’re very good!” 

“I didn’t. I’m glad to hear it. I wish I could be of more help in the greenhouse, but every time I’ve tried, I’ve only ended up breaking something or uprooting the wrong plant.” He chuckled softly. “The Professor suggested I help with clearing the rubble in the cathedral. Dedue promises me my efforts have sped up the process considerably. I’m pleased to finally put my… unusual strength to use.” 

“It’s incredible to watch,” Ashe said. “This place was nearly a ruin when we arrived, and now, it looks almost like it did in our school days.” And someday, he hoped, there might again be students here, learning together in a time of peace. 

Dimitri nodded. “There’s a lot of memories here. Sometimes I can almost imagine… no, it doesn’t matter. We should go into town sometime later. I want to buy Dedue some sewing supplies and seeds.” 

What had he been about to say? Ashe didn’t ask. “That sounds wonderful,” he said instead. “Dedue told me he’s running low after patching up equipment.” 

“He should have some for himself as well,” Dimitri declared. “And…” His eye lit up, now what did that mean… “I heard Anna is running a swift trade in romance novels. It seems such things are much called for in difficult times.”

“I’m tempted by those every time I go shopping. But her prices…” He’d made the mistake of letting Anna know exactly how much he adored stories, and she hadn’t let up since. He and Ingrid had had to make do with the cheaper books that tended to fall apart after a few readings. 

“Let me,” Dimitri said. “I want to do something nice for you. You’ve been working so hard. Are you free tomorrow after the morning strategy session?” At Ashe’s eager agreement, Dimitri laughed again. It was so good to hear that, even if it was a little embarrassing to be the subject of his intense attention. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking that back in our school days you never would have agreed to come with me without stumbling over it or insisting on doing my work for me.”

Ashe couldn’t help but blush. “I was like that, wasn’t I?” He’d only wanted to do things properly, to not risk overstepping where he wasn’t allowed. But things were different with Dimitri. He wanted friends, not servants. 

“It was endearing.” Dimitri had thought that? “I only ever wanted you to be comfortable around me.” 

He was, now. But back then… “I suppose I didn’t make that easy.” Especially not in their earliest days of training and missions. 

Dimitri shook his head. “You did well. And I will forever be grateful for it.”

The warmth there… it made him want to reach across the table and take Dimitri’s hand, to pledge to stay with him forever.

Ashe smiled. “Tomorrow. There’s some places I want to show you.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're not done yet! Current chapter count estimate is now 7. And when I started I thought I could finish this in 3...


	6. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe and Dimitri escape battle preparations for a brief time, but tensions remain.   
> Guest starring everyone's favorite space-and-time-breaking merchant, Anna!

When Ashe had first returned to Garreg Mach, the market had been utterly barren, nothing but the rotting skeletons of abandoned stalls long ago picked over by thieves and beggars. The few remaining residents of Garreg Mach’s castle town had conducted their business in other places, in darkened doorways and streets less frequented by Imperial troops demanding tribute for the scant protection they offered from the gangs of bandits who seemed to be the only people who’d flourished in the wake of Edelgard’s declaration of war.

But word had gotten out about the force camped at the ancient monastery thought abandoned years ago. A force that could fight back Demonic Beasts, lowly thieves, and Imperial generals. A force that needed meat and fruit for their tables and packs, needed their weapons forged and mended, their medical supplies stocked. A force that, despite everything, was hungry for tea and books and beautiful things, and had the money to make the treacherous trip across the war-torn continent more than worth the while.

It wasn’t just merchants, either. Word quickly spread that Garreg Mach offered sanctuary, offered hope. Citizens of all three nations whose homes were threatened by the war came to them for safety. Others came to offer their services to the war effort. Byleth welcomed them all, and Seteth had appointed several monks to keep track of their numbers and needs. There was of course the risk of spies coming in with the refugees. No doubt several already had. But the Professor had prepared for that, knew how to send them home with false information or no information at all.

And the increase in people, fighters and civilians both, brought even more merchants in. Anna had been one of the first to return. She seemed preternaturally attuned to the tides of trade, always ready with the item one needed and several more besides, if one was willing to pay the price. She had contacts across the globe, or so she bragged, and Ashe was inclined to believe it. Her cart stocked weapons and ore, books and accessories, tea and exotic food. More than once Ashe had found a glowing ring or humming amulet among her wares, his awestruck questions answered only with vague comments about advantages in battle or blessings from saints. 

She waved to them as they came down the street, pink ponytail bouncing above her head. “Ashe, Prince Dimitri! Welcome! Have you come looking for something in particular?”

Ashe waved back. Anna was fond of him. Unfortunately, she was not nearly fond enough to compromise on her prices. 

“Books,” Dimitri declared, “and thread and beads, and needles if you have them.”

“Mhmm, I think I can manage that.” Anna was never surprised by anything, not even royalty marching up to her and asking for common goods. “Books are over there,” she said, pointing to a tiny shelf and a crate underneath. “Thread and things, over here.” She flicked a tiny mechanism and a bit of the table lifted up to reveal a tray with a rainbow of thread and beads and ornaments pinned to it.

“That’s a bit more security than I’d expect for sewing supplies...” Ashe began.

“Uh-huh,” Anna agreed. “Saves them blowing away in the wind. And I bet you’re wondering where my real valuables are now. Well, I’m not telling.”

He had been, he realized, though it had been many years since he’d last needed to know. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Anna assured him. “I have any number of ways to protect myself and my stock.” He was sure she did. 

While Dimitri persused the thread, Ashe searched through the box of books, studying each block-printed cover. He recognized a few of the pen names, but most were new to him. There was the romance between a mapmaker and his scout, a knight and her patron, a lady and a foreign merchant. And then the adventure tales, stories of young heroes sailing across the sea to Morfis or Dagda or far off the map to lands of fantasy. Curious, he flipped one of the books open, and to his horror it landed on an illustration rather more explicit than anything he’d want to read outside his room. 

“Ooh, that one,” Anna said with a knowing smile, peering across the counter at him. “Too spicy for you?”

“Ah, no, it’s just…” Ashe had seen worse. There were a few thin pamphlets under his bed that might shock even Anna. But if Dimitri was looking over his shoulder… No, thank goodness, he was a few paces away examining hanks of thread and bolts of fabric.

“Uh-huh.” Anna nodded. “I won’t judge. It’s more sales for me, after all.” Just when Ashe thought the danger was over, she grinned. “Buuuuuut, if you’re looking for more, I can get that for you. You’ve just gotta ask.”

Oh, he would. But not  _ now... _

“Ashe,” Dimitri called, saving him from needing to reply, “Look at these, do you think Dedue would like the green or the copper?”

Relieved, Ashe sidled over to get a better look. “Hmm… We should check somewhere else,” Ashe said to Dimitri, making sure Anna could hear him. “I don’t like the prices on these beads.”

Anna gave him another too-knowing look. “Sorry, but I’m not going to go any lower. Hard times, you know? I can’t just go selling my valuable goods for peanuts. Although…” She tapped her lip, stretching out the word. “I have a sister in Fhirdiad who wouldn’t mind some royal patronage...” 

“I hope to meet her someday,” Dimitri said, promising nothing. 

After a bit of healthy bargaining, they left with a stack of books tall enough to last Ashe a good while, a fat bundle of thread in a wild rainbow of colors, and a string of tiny shining beads. He couldn’t help but protest weakly when Dimitri paid for them all, but unlike long ago, he accepted the gift gracefully. 

They continued down the road with their parcels, passing people who looked, and looked again, at the unmistakable face of their king. Dimitri kept his distance, offering only brief nods when someone caught his eye. Was that because he feared their disapproval, or because he didn’t want to trouble them in their work by forcing them to the bowing and formal titles he found so useless?

Mostly, the people didn’t bow and scrape. Some were too worn by war to give in to formalities, and some had lived by Garreg Mach for decades, seen generations of students from every corner of Fodlan, and were too familiar with young nobles walking in their midst to bother with it. 

That familiarity didn’t mean there had never been strict divides between the noble students and those not so fortunate to have been born with a title. As much as the teachers wished otherwise, the noble students were often held to different standards, had advantages and possibilities that their counterparts could never dream of without securing the patronage of a wealthy sponsor. Ashe knew that very well. 

Despite that truth, the Lions had never made him feel any different, any lesser, no matter most of them had known each other since birth and he was an outsider not only to their status but also to their friendship. Around Ingrid and Annette especially he could almost forget there was any great divide between them at all. But with Dimitri, his prince... Ashe regretted it had taken so long for him to accept his friendship. Dimitri had given him the space and patience he needed. And Ashe had been proud to do the same for him.

But it wasn’t their schooldays anymore, was it? There were no more exams and classes and dances. Now they had to end a war, reclaim a throne. Change the world. If any of them could do it, it was Dimitri.

Ashe knew most of these merchants by name, could ask after their families. There by the fountain was the old lady who sold dried fruit from overflowing boxes, over there by the wall was the man who grilled sausages on sticks over a small brazier and always gave away each day’s leftovers to the street children who gathered at his stall as the sun set. Often Ashe’s shopping trips turned into long friendly recountings of town gossip and third-hand war news and other inconsequential things. Sometimes he wondered if they would be as friendly and kind if they knew his past. But that wasn’t something worth spending time fretting over, not with a pivotal battle on the horizon. 

“Are you hungry?” Ashe asked. “There’s a nice place Ingrid showed me.” Eating with Ingrid was always good because she tended to order samples of everything, giving Ashe a chance to try each dish and find his favorites. 

“I will trust her advice,” Dimitri said. “Lead the way.”

Ashe led him down the street, past a group of workers busy repairing a roof and a group of children painting on a worn fence. Two more turns and they came out on a little clearing where the low walls had been meticulously patched and maintained. Several food vendors had taken up residence here. It was a little early, but there were already a fair number of people scattered around the chairs and tables.

They took seats on well-worn chairs that looked suspiciously like they’d been taken from somewhere in the monastery. The cheery owner of the shop, an old man memorable for his astonishing collection of even older hats, served up heaping plates of herb-speckled noodles and spiced meat, talking all the while about the latest romances between the Kingdom knights and the young ladies of the town. Either he didn’t recognize Dimitri or he didn’t care, because not once during the meal or any of the friendly chatter that accompanied it did he mention it.

When they’d finished and the owner had cleared away their plates, Dimitri pushed a paper-wrapped packet into Ashe’s hands. Ashe didn’t need to ask what it was. The sweetshop’s emblem was stamped in pale ink on the back. He peeled up a corner to reveal the little round sugar-dusted sweets nestled inside and the scent of flowers and fond memories.

When had he gotten these? 

“I- Thank you, these are wonderful!”

Dimitri smiled. “Violet and rose. I hope you like them. I tried to remember what your favorites were. I trust I’ve chosen correctly?”

“Yes! I love these ones. I haven’t had them in… years, probably.” There’d been no room for such luxuries since the war began, and besides, none of the shops in what had once been Gaspard territory could compare to this. He put one in his mouth, savored the sweetness and delicate flavors.

“How lovely!” the shop owner exclaimed, very nearly making Ashe choke on the candies in surprise. He shook his head in delight. “It’s so good to see these things, people reaching out to each other, ah! It reminds me of better times. Goddess give us good times again someday!”

The owner also insisted on cutting the cost of their meal. “Put it towards beating back those Empire thugs,” he said. So he had recognized them after all. 

As much as Ashe wished it could, their little escape couldn’t last all day. There was training to be done, and another strategy session later in the day. The Professor knew they could be tiring and tried not to hold them too often, especially when they might be called away at any moment if Empire forces were sighted in range of the monastery, but now that Dimitri was attending, the sessions were indispensible.

“Will you join me on the training grounds?” Dimitri asked as they approached the front doors. The gatekeeper waved at them with his customary cheer. 

Ashe agreed. “I need to work on close-quarters tactics,” he said. 

“Please do _ , _ ” Dimitri agreed, worry seeping into his voice. No doubt he was thinking of Ashe’s close call in one of their recent skirmishes, when he’d been ambushed by a fighter at close range, too close to draw his bow, and he’d had to resort to stabbing at the man with an arrow before Lorenz had noticed and taken out the enemy with an earth-shaking bolt of dark magic. 

Ashe loved sparring with Dimitri. Watching his movements, looking for his chance, perhaps even besting him… no, more often he’d end up pinned under Dimitri’s lance, and wasn’t that a thrilling thought… Ashe shook his head clear. He couldn’t hope to get anywhere in training with his thoughts drifting like that. Those thoughts (and certain ones of Anna’s books) could wait for later.

There was only one person on the training grounds when they entered. Felix stood at the far corner, slashing mercilessly at a tattered dummy, each stroke refined and brutal. 

For all Felix claimed to hate the values of knights, Ashe thought, he fought like the very best of them. 

No doubt he knew they were there, had probably known since they approached the door, but he gave no outward sign of it as he continued his work, forcing them to watch the rest of his routine, showing that he wouldn’t be interrupted, not even by a king. 

For a long time the place was silent but for the sound of a blade against wood and cloth. He’d tied his hair back for training, but he’d been at it long enough that some strands had come loose. At last, he drew back, breathing hard, studying his work.

Dimitri strode forward, hand outstretched. “Felix, I’m so glad to see you again.”

Felix turned sharp eyes on them, raised his chin to watch Dimitri. He did not step forward but remained where he stood, regarding the offered hand with disdain. “Hm. So you’ve decided to show yourself.”

“I have never hidden,” Dimitri returned. Felix scoffed.

Ashe’s hands tightened at his sides, but he said nothing. This was not something where he could interfere, no matter how much he wanted to defend Dimitri from Felix’s ferocity. They needed this, both of them. If there was to be any hope of reconciliation between them, this had to happen now. 

Felix paced towards him, feet light on the sand, studying him like a suspicious cat might a stranger. He wasn’t as confident as he made himself out to be, but Ashe knew very well that Felix was the last person who would ever admit that. Moments passed in silence, while he stared with narrowed eyes and Dimitri refused to back down. 

Felix glanced to Ashe. “I didn’t ask for an audience.”

Dimitri moved towards Ashe, protective, even though Felix had made no move against him. “Felix-”

“It’s all right,” Ashe said automatically. “I can practice later.” That was hardly the point, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. He nodded to Dimitri and headed back to the doors, pausing on the threshold to look back at the two of them standing on the sands.

Felix didn’t move. Dimitri looked to him, regret on his face that hardened into certainty. “Felix,” he began, voice rough, “I am truly sorry for-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Felix snapped. “Your words mean nothing.” And then, without warning, he grabbed a training lance from the rack and threw it to Dimitri. Dimitri snatched it out of the air and fell into a dueling stance.

Felix smiled. So he approved, at least, of that. “Fight me, boar. Prove that you’re ready to lead us.”

Dimitri raised his lance. Accepted the challenge. “Show me what you’ve learned in my absence,” he said, without a trace of doubt. “I’m ready.”

Ashe could justify watching no longer. He turned and walked through the doors as the clash of weapons rang in the air. 

When they’d first started heading back from town, he’d thought of finding a nice sunny spot in the monastery to read his new books, but the idea of sitting still while Dimitri and Felix dueled and his friends prepared for battle didn’t feel right. He needed someone to talk to, someone who might understand. He found Dedue in the greenhouse harvesting plants for healing salves. He took a basket and some shears and joined him.

“Did you enjoy your morning?” Dedue asked.

“I did! We got-” No, he would wait for Dimitri before he told Dedue about his gifts- “a lot of good things. But-“

Dedue listened quietly as Ashe recounted what happened after they returned, only speaking when it was clear he couldn’t find any more words.

“What exists between them is for them to work through together,” Dedue said. The fact that he took the report so calmly eased some of Ashe’s anxiety. Clearly he did not think Dimitri was in danger from Felix’s blade.

“I don’t know what to do about it,” Ashe admitted. He plucked a handful of leaves from a low stalk and tucked them into the basket. “I like Felix. I know he would never betray us or hurt our cause.” Perhaps he was too trusting. But it didn’t feel right to distrust Felix. “I understand why he’s angry. But the way he talks to- to Dimitri, it’s… I don’t like it.”

Felix did not see how deeply his words wounded Dimitri. Would he care, if he knew? Or would he see that pain as something deserved, something to be borne in the pursuit of victory, a guardrail against a fall from the grace he had clawed himself back to? 

It was a long moment before Dedue replied. “Felix’s anger is at the world. As is mine.” The world that sent young soldiers to die in honorless wars while poor children starved. The world that looked away as Duscur burned. “His Highness and Felix share that hatred of a kingdom that values killing over living and finds death to be the highest honor.” He sat back on his heels to examine the plants. “I do not hate Felix. He is a skilled warrior. I do not doubt he will fight well for us. But if he will not treat His Highness or his closest companions with respect… he will not have mine.”

There was nothing Ashe could say to that. Dedue had said it all. Dimitri deserved kindness and patience. Needed it. Yet, after years of war, he understood well how Felix despised Dimitri’s eagerness to throw himself into it. Despised the songs that glorified it. But right now, they had to fight. And if songs made it bearable…

Dedue sat back on his heels.. “I once believed I would give my life for His Highness and call it a great honor. I still would, without hesitation. But I would far rather stay by his side and see him to victory.”

A victory for the Kingdom, and for peace. The first step towards reconciliation with Duscur. Towards rebuilding. There was far more riding on there next battles than any of them wanted to admit. But they all knew it, Dimitri most of all. And it weighed so heavily on him.

“We’ll do it together,” Ashe said, trying to smile.

They were carrying the baskets inside to the infirmary when Felix and Dimitri returned, walking side by side, eyes no longer glowing with challenge. 

“Who won?” Ashe prompted before he could think better of it.

Dimitri and Felix looked at each other.

“Does it matter?” Dimitri said.

If the two of them were speaking again, would fight together instead of against each other, then it truly didn’t matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I'll be stuck at home for the foreseeable future. Hoping I can use that time to get some writing done!


	7. Fhirdiad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri's army sets off to retake the royal city.

Training went on, punctuated by skirmishes with bandits and Imperial scouts. Every day, their mission drew closer, demanding more and more work be put to preparations. When he wasn’t in meetings or training with Dimitri, Ashe found himself very often in the kitchens, even when he hadn’t been assigned work there. 

Dedue was grateful for the help, especially on days when he was teaching. While Annette and Flayn proved to be earnest students, they were very much prone to little mishaps here and there if Dedue took his eyes off them for too long. Having Ashe around meant that Dedue could risk leaving for a few minutes to fetch something from a storeroom or devote his attention to a tricky technique without worrying that he’d return to find something spilled across the floor, or worse, on fire. 

Stocks shrank by the week, forcing them to rely on whatever meat could be fished or hunted from the surrounding area, and their spices had long since dwindled to whatever they could grow in the greenhouse, but most sensible people didn’t dare complain. Despite their limited stores, the cooking rotation was more than skilled at making do. 

“Fish again?” Sylvain grumbled, holding the skewer to his face and peering at the blackened edges suspiciously as Flayn beamed at him over the platter. “Don’t get me wrong, they’re better fish than I’d get back home, but…” He nibbled on it and made a face. “Uh, I think you burned this.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it.” A hand crept over his shoulder and snatched it away.

“Hey, Ingrid, I was eating that!”

“No, you weren’t,” Ingrid said with her mouth full. She swallowed. “Don’t listen to him, Flayn,” she continued. “You’ve been getting a lot better. This is really tasty.” 

Heartened by her words, Flayn pouted theatrically at Sylvain. “Chef Dedue has told me that if I am to improve my skill, I must practice the art. I am inclined to listen to his advice.”

“Listening to Dedue is usually a good idea,” Ashe said. He reached over and snagged a fish from the platter. They were a little charred around the edges, he couldn’t deny, but he had gone hungry too many times in his life to reject anything he was given. The burned bits could be easily brushed off, and the skin underneath was crispy and salty with a touch of herbs. 

Flayn glowed at the praise. She turned to Dedue. “I have achieved a great accomplishment! Surely this means I can next attempt- ”

“No,” Dedue interrupted. “You are doing well, but you are not yet ready for that.”

“I have not even said what it is I wish to do!”

Across the hall, Dorothea cleared her throat, putting an end to Flayn’s protests. “Everyone, the Professor and Prince Dimitri have called a meeting in half an hour.” She gave a wry smile. “Ferdie’s going to be talking, so I suggest you eat up, because it might be a long time before you’re free again.”

***

“I do not have a great deal of information about the Dukedom,” Ferdinand explained when they’d all gathered around the long table. “Lady Cornelia sent very little correspondence to Enbarr, and half of that in riddles. In any case, anything I would have learned would be long out of date by now,” he added, shaking his head in regret. 

Felix sniffed. “Current or not, we need all the intelligence we can get. If you know something, tell us.”

“I shall, if you will be patient,” Ferdinand returned.

When they quieted down, Ferdinand spoke of other things he’d learned in Edelgard’s service, things he’d only overheard in meetings even the Emperor herself wasn’t aware of. Some small missions to subdue pockets of rebels near the Alliance border, no doubt already completed. An attempt to reclaim Brigid that failed when Petra’s wyvern-mounted army set the Empire’s ships aflame before they’d even reached the harbor. Dorothea’s face lit up at that particular bit of news, in the way that even Ashe knew meant she was already composing an opera of the daring deeds. 

Most startling of all were Hubert’s theories on the mysterious magics they’d encountered at Remire and then again at the ruined chapel. His words painted a frightening image of ancient, monstrous forces determined to destroy the human world. Ashe shivered. He wanted to dismiss it as just another ghost story, the sort Mercedes spun on dark evenings that kept him awake long into the night searching for beasts in every shadow. But he’d seen Monica transform with his own eyes, had seen the Professor vanish into nothingness. Seen the blank-eyed figures that even the best stage masks couldn’t hope to create. These monsters were real, and he would have to fight them again.

And then there were the golems.

“Monsters from the time of the Goddess... ” Ignatz began. “It’s terrifying to think about. How are we going to fight them?”

“The Professor will find a way!” Bernadetta insisted, her own nervousness obvious. “Right?”

“If only I had some sort of reference material…” Linhardt sighed, “I might be able to figure it out. Maybe there’s something in the Holy Tomb…” He tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking.

Seteth eyed him with disapproval. “That will not be necessary,” he said, curt and final. “Saint Seiros was said to have crafted similar guardians to protect her loved ones,” he added after a moment, each word weighted with extreme care. “They are extremely durable, but they can be stunned and defeated with concerted effort.”

“Or I could ask Seteth and save myself the effort,” Linhardt amended, a tad smugly. Seteth coughed. 

There was more news, gathered in bits and pieces from rumors and intercepted Imperial missives. Edelgard was even now still blazingly furious over Ferdinand’s defection. She’d offered a hefty reward for his capture or death. No doubt her spies were after him now, determined to win both the gold and the Emperor’s ear. 

“I suppose I should consider it a personal victory,” Ferdinand said grimly, “that she has finally recognized my talents now that they are no longer under her command.” He sighed, shaking his head. “She could have done so much good for the people. Even as her rival, I believed in her. But what she has done… this is not good for anybody, not least the commoners she drafts into her army.” He looked to Dimitri. “I do not know what will become of the Empire territories after this. But it will be for the best, in the end.” 

And when, Ashe wondered, would all this finally end? Edelgard’s forces were strong, dedicated, loyal. Internal conflicts like those that hobbled the Alliance were swiftly stamped out. There would be many more battles before the Empire’s tyranny could be defeated. 

He had never had a great mind for strategy. He enjoyed studying it, certainly, but coming up with the plans wasn’t where his strengths lay. He’d far rather be one of the fighters on the ground enacting Byleth and Dimitri’s goals, whether as a battalion commander or a lone sniper. The storybooks and historical chronicles that recorded such times as these had never said anything about the endless waiting and worry that came between the legendary battles. How diagrams and maps blurred before his eyes after hours and hours of work. 

“Rest, Ashe,” Dimitri told him as they left the Cardinals’ Room after one particularly long day. “I won’t have you exhausting yourself without need.”

“You should too,” Ashe said through a yawn. “You’ve been awake longer than I have.”

Dimitri shook his head. “Later, I promise.” He gave a half-smile. “I want to talk to Ferdinand and Marianne about the armor we’re using on our calvary. I think there’s room for some improvements. Nothing that will take too much time or expense to be viable,” though of course, had they the time and gold, Dimitri would give it all to keep his people safe, “but I’ve seen them studying some books that might offer some useful advice.” 

Ashe brightened, the image of Dimitri working with the others on armor briefly cutting through the tired fog in his head.“Oh! That sounds wonderful. I’d like to see what you come up with.”

“I’ll be sure to return with a full report,” Dimitri said. He headed off to the stables, and Ashe to his room, where he slept for a few hours and spent the rest of the afternoon reading. Dimitri had been right. The rest did him good. Would Dimitri allow the same for himself?

Even if he wouldn’t grant himself rest, Ashe and Dedue would be there to remind him. 

And then, all at once, weeks of preparation gave way to action. The day they departed from Garreg Mach dawned inauspiciously grey and dull. Ashe helped load the last pieces of equipment onto the wagons before taking his place among the ranks of fighters. 

The order to march rang out into the clouded sky, rippled through the lines, signaling the start of the journey that might well decide this war. 

Ashe thought his horse seemed nervous, though that might just be his own anxiety. He rode to the east side of the army, keeping a sharp eye out for anything out of place, any signs they were about to be ambushed, any trace of Imperial spies attempting to hide themselves amidst their number. More than once he started at the sight of a deer in the woods, or a flock of birds rising from a bush, or an innocent trader’s caravan headed in the other direction. 

Some of the soldiers sang as they marched. After maybe half an hour of half-hearted and out-of-tune material better suited to a bar than a king’s army, Dorothea sighed heavily and lifted her clear, ringing voice above the rest, weaving a soaring ballad of victory and heroism. At first the others paused in their singing and merely listened to her beautiful song, but before long they joined in by twos and threes, adding to the rousing chorus. Many were clearly making up the words as they went, but to Ashe’s mind the amusement that came from their improvisations was well worth the damage to the original tune. 

It took them nearly a week of travel to reach the long-abandoned guard posts outside the royal city. A week of early morning and long slow days, tense and tedious by turns. Each night they traded off on chores without complaint: camp prep, cooking, watch patrols. Ashe knew some of the soldiers thought it odd that their commanders would put in so much manual labor when it could easily be delegated to those of lesser rank, but none of them were willing to sit back when there was work to be done. Ashe would far rather be doing something useful, far rather be stirring the pots of stew or driving tent stakes into the ground than simply  _ waiting  _ while others worked, with nothing to think about but the coming battle and the dozens of things that could spell their defeat. 

“Why isn’t anybody here?” Ingrid wondered aloud. “You would think Cornelia would want to make use of the vantage point.”

“Her army might not be as vast as she’d like us to believe,” Felix suggested, a viciously pleased edge to his voice. “Or this is a trap manned by spies.”

“Spies!” Caspar repeated. “They won’t get past me!”

“Pah, you’ll need better tactics than yelling at the top of your lungs if you want to catch spies,” Felix returned.

Ashe left the two of them to their strategizing and brought a plate of food to Dimitri’s tent, where he sat in study, worn papers crumpling under his hands. 

“We arrive at the city gates tomorrow,” Dimitri said. He sighed heavily, shaking his head, and set the diagrams aside. “I still fear… Never mind. We will fight to the best of our ability. Anything less would be unworthy of the Kingdom’s people.” 

Ashe didn’t press. He could already imagine what it was Dimitri feared. He wished dearly that he could take away that fear with a word or with a kiss, but he knew that was impossible. If only this was a story where they all could trust that good would triumph, and heroes rewarded… 

Well. Doubt would do nobody any good. Ashe believed in Dimitri and he always had. They would win, no matter how long it took. 

They ate in quiet as the sky grew dark, talking of everything but the battle ahead: of amusing things from the road, of past tournaments, of those stories they once read together. But at last, Ashe could justify delaying sleep no longer. He gathered up the dishes. When would they next be able to spend an evening like this?

He was about to leave when Dimitri called to him. “Ashe,” he said. “Will you… stay with me?”

It took Ashe a moment to find his breath. “Of- of course,” he said, smiling back at Dimitri, trying to hide the direction his thoughts had taken. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking of anything more, anything warmer. Those secret dreams would wait a little longer. He pulled the bedding close so that Dimitri would know he wasn’t afraid, buried his face in the blankets to hide his blush, though that was hardly needed in the darkness that surrounded them when Dimitri extinguished their lantern. 

The nights were warmer now, so even this far north there was no easy excuse for Ashe to cuddle close. Maybe that was a good thing. He didn’t know that he could have resisted the temptation if it were there.

Neither of them slept especially well, and Ashe found his dreams filled with confused visions of phantom soldiers and Demonic Beasts crowned with Edelgard’s horns. But they at least did not wake during the night, secure in each other’s company. 

*******

The Empire’s forces were ready for them, as they’d expected from the start. There was no way an army of their size could approach the city undetected. But this was exactly what they had spent all those weeks preparing for. At the Professor’s order, they arrayed themselves at the gates and advanced. 

The otherworldly constructions under Cornelia’s command roared and lumbered forward, tall as buildings and loud as thunder, rising again and again even when by all rights they should have lain defeated and broken under the army’s attacks. The glowing tower at the city gates shot lighting into their midst, forcing Dimitri to leap aside with a shout of surprise.

Ashe and Felix crept forward towards the mechanisms that the Professor and Gilbert predicted would deactivate the machines. They were heavily guarded, of course, making reaching them a torturously slow undertaking. Every moment Ashe had to dodge magefire or arrows, fight merely to hold his position instead of advancing, was a moment another of their own might fall to the enemy. There were so many of them, and all were prepared to fight to their deaths to push Dimitri’s army back. And everywhere, those sinister masked mages of the same ilk as those Edelgard had commanded at Gronder. This would not be the last they would see of them, Ashe knew. He shivered. 

He allowed himself a sigh of relief when Felix reached his mark and the golems ground to a halt, topping to the ground in heaps of unmoving rubble, as if they had never been alive. Had they even been alive to begin with? A thought for later, when he was well out of the reach of blades and arrows. 

Even with most of the enemy forces dead or defeated, the battle raged on for a long while before it finally came to an end. Cornelia stood proud and defiant in the middle of it all, certain of her victory up until the very moment Dimitri laid Areadbhar against her throat, and even then, she laughed her way to her death. The razor-edged words she threw at Dimitri when her magic failed set Ashe’s blood burning in fury. How dare she use his memories of his lost family against him when she walked in the stolen body of a dead woman.

Dimitri slew her in a single blow and didn’t look back.

The city - and the Kingdom - was theirs. 

***

Taking back the royal palace was a simple matter after that. Most of the guardsmen and household staff were all too eager to return their allegiance to Dimitri after years of being bound to the Dukedom by threats of the violence and starvation that would follow if they dared oppose them. 

As for the people… Ashe had never seen such celebration, even on the grandest festival days. They filled the streets, cheering, shouting, singing. Children ran after them, hoping to catch a glimpse of the returning prince and his allies.

From Dimitri’s astonished expression, he hadn’t expected any of it.

Sylvain smacked him on the back. “Looks like you’re popular! Nice job, Your Highness. Or should I be saying Your Majesty now?”

Dimitri shook his head. “Not until we find the Archbishop. I will take my crown rightfully or not at all.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “I don’t think anybody would complain if you do it now, you know.” He leaned in and added in a stage-whisper, “I think that’s what they want!”

“Enough, Sylvain,” Dimitri said, pushing him gently aside. 

“He’s right, you know,” Ingrid put in, causing Sylvain to crow in victory at gaining her agreement. “They want a king. They want you.”

Dimitri took a long breath. “I know. I… will do what I must.”

He looked so tired, Ashe thought. “We can think about that tomorrow,” he said. “There’s enough to think about already now.”

“Yes,” Dimitri replied, visibly relieved. “We need to ensure there’s no lingering plots Cornelia thought to spring on us.” He was right. Who knew what traps waited for them. Cornelia might have been proud, but it wasn’t out of the question that she might have predicted her own death, and left measures in place that would activate were she to be defeated. 

Dedue nodded. “I will organize a team to search, if you order it.”

“Thank you, Dedue. That would serve well.”

Under Byleth’s direction, they spent the next few hours discussing and planning. In the morning, they’d ride out into the city to assess the damage from the battle. Meet the people, learn what they needed. What Cornelia had deprived them of in her selfish reign. There was so much to be done.

Meanwhile, they had an army to feed. In short order, the castle’s dining tables were covered with stews and casseroles, platters of meat and bread and preserved vegetables. Nothing especially fancy, nothing worthy of a king, but good food all the same. Sylvain and Ingrid made straight for the kitchens when they arrived at the palace and dug up a long-forgotten cask from the cellars. 

“Nothing better than a drink to our victory, right?” Sylvain said, adding a very unnecessary wink.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ingrid sighed, ignoring the flirting. “Tomorrow we’ll need to start cleaning everything up to make it fit for His Highness.”

“Aw, Ingrid,” Sylvain complained, “that’s for later. Let’s enjoy this now.” 

She glared at him one last time before relenting. “We’ve certainly earned it.” She sighed and dropped into a chair to refill her glass.

Ashe took a cup gratefully. It made watching Sylvain flirt with both his friends and the newly-reinstated palace guards just a little more bearable. 

Dimitri, though, turned down the offered goblet, as he had since he’d started joining the others for meals again. Ashe had never asked why, but Dimitri had told him one night that he despised the disorientation such things brought with them. That he feared losing control, feared harming his friends with his unnatural strength. Someday, might he grow to trust himself again? When he saw in front of him all the good he would do for his people and the world?

Despite Ingrid’s concerns, Dimitri certainly didn’t have any complaints about the state of the palace. Between the dusty guest chambers and the senior Guard barracks, there was enough space to house their army comfortably for the night. That is, if any of them actually planned to sleep, instead of spending the entire night in raucous celebration. 

Partway through the meal, Ashe turned to Dimitri after a long discussion with Ingrid and Raphael over what treats they could afford to fit in with the army’s rations on the march to Enbarr to find that he wasn’t there. Ashe didn’t blame him. The noise and high emotions was a lot to bear after a long battle. He excused himself and went in search of him. 

Ashe found Dimitri not in the King’s chambers, but in another part of the royal residence, in what must have been his old bedroom. He stood at the wide window, watching the world below. Before Ashe could speak, he asked the empty air, “Am I truly worthy to take the throne, after everything I’ve done? After how long I left them?”

Even after their triumphant victory, he still doubted himself. That might always be true, Ashe thought, heart aching. He stepped forward to Dimitri’s side. 

“Your people think you’re worthy.” They’d seen that from the moment they’d entered the city. The crowds still hadn’t quieted down, even now that it was full dark. Songs of victory still rang in the air, citizens danced in the streets, showing no signs of stopping before dawn.

Dimitri looked away, head bowed. “I don’t deserve this,” he said into the moonlit sky.

“Do any of us?” Ashe replied. A humorless laugh. “We’re in a war, Your Highness. We’ve all killed, and we’ve all lost. I don’t know if any of that can ever be forgiven.” He ran his fingers over his bow, wondered how many soldiers it had felled, and shivered. “We have to make the best of what we have. Hating yourself won’t change any of that. We can never go back to how things were before. Or get back who we’ve lost. But we can end this war and make the world better for those who survive.” He snorted and shook his head. “Listen to me, I sound like one of those stories…”

Dimitri glanced up, the light in his good eye just a tiny bit warmer than before. “Stories that somehow always served you well.” He sighed, pulled his furs tighter around his neck, gazed out across the lamplit city. “I told you once that I was nothing like those heroes. Now you’ve seen it to be true. Why, then, do you still follow me after all I’ve done?”

It was a question that required no thought to answer. “Because you’re worth following, Your Highness. Dimitri.”

Dimitri closed his eyes for a long, heavy time. “Ashe,” he said at last. “You have no idea how I admire you. You are brave. And far stronger than I have ever been. You survived years in the cold streets without allowing it to break you or turn you cruel.” He looked up, one eye bright with questions and wonder. “How is that possible?”

Ashe thought of his brother and sister, wondering when they would receive word of Dimitri’s victory. “I wasn't alone.” If he hadn’t had his siblings to care for, he might have let himself die out there, or turned to worse than thieving with nothing to tie him to the world. If Lonato had not opened his arms and his doors to them, they might have died even so.

As if reading the dark track of his thoughts, Dimitri said, “You should never have suffered so. The Kingdom failed you. And many other children like you.” He looked away. “I saw it, in those years. Saw them starving on the streets while those with the luck to be born wealthy turned their eyes away and feasted.”

He turned to face Ashe, face stern and determined, and Ashe froze under that gaze, not for fear but for wonderment.

“I swear it, Ashe,” Dimitri declared, a royal proclamation. “No child in Fódlan should be allowed to go hungry or cold or be forced to steal merely to survive.”

Ashe smiled, heart swelling with emotion. “And that’s why I want to serve you. You want to do good in the world. You fight for justice, for those who need your aid and protection.” He shook his head, eyes shining. “To serve as a knight to a king like that is more than I’d ever dreamed of.”

He knelt on the faded blue rug and took a deep breath. Then: “Will you accept my service… Dimitri?” Goddess, it had been nearly seven years since they’d met and saying his name still made Ashe’s heart flutter ridiculously. 

He heard Dimitri’s cape rustle as he straightened his back. A regal pose, Ashe imagined, suitable for formal ceremonies... 

“Ashe. You have served me loyally in battle and in peace. You have earned high honor. Today, that shall be recognized…”

Ashe’s thoughts narrowed to the words and nothing else as Dimitri spoke the ritual oaths binding him to the Goddess and the Kingdom and above all to his King.

And then he held out his hand and pulled Ashe to his feet and into his arms, pressed a kiss to his lips.

“My knight,” Dimitri said, making no effort to hide the fondness in his voice.  _ That _ was not part of the ritual, but Ashe could hardly care. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! I love these two so much.
> 
> Wow, this ended up a lot longer than I expected. It was a lot of fun to write, but I think I'll be sticking to one-shots for a while after that.
> 
> Special thanks to everyone who commented, those emails made my day.


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